


Heir's Day

by Dragonsquill (dragonsquill)



Series: Prompts and AUs [7]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwarf Culture & Customs, Family Feels, Gen, Holidays, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 09:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2342720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonsquill/pseuds/Dragonsquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill for Feels for Fili: Holiday</p><p>King’s Day was always a solemn affair, a day of histories and honor.  The people of Erebor, displaced now and wandering, would spend the day remembering those lost, telling the old stories, speaking the secret and beautiful language of their people.  It was a day for remembering the past and honoring their roots, from Mahal’s forge to the depths of the mountain.</p><p>Heir’s Day, however, was  a celebration of hope for the future.  It was joyful and noisy, a day for music and dancing, feasting and dreaming of the future.  King’s Day remembered the solemn past; Heir’s Day embraced a joyful future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heir's Day

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as part of the [Feels for Fili](http://feelsforfili.tumblr.com/) campaign, designed to encourage works exploring the character of Fili. The prompt was "Holidays."
> 
> [Blanket Permission Statement](http://dragonsquill.tumblr.com/permission)

When Fíli was a child, his favorite holiday was Heir’s Day.

King’s Day was always a solemn affair, a day of histories and honor. The people of Erebor, displaced now and wandering, would spend the day remembering those lost, telling the old stories, speaking the secret and beautiful language of their people. It was a day for remembering the past and honoring their roots, from Mahal’s forge to the depths of the mountain.

Heir’s Day, however, was a celebration of hope for the future. Even though Uncle Thorin was Crown Prince, and Heir’s Day was _his_ day, people didn’t spend it acting like Uncle Thorin (which was to say nice but rather serious and stuffy). It was joyful and noisy, a day for music and dancing, feasting and dreaming of the future. King’s Day remembered the solemn past; Heir’s Day embraced a joyful future.

Fíli loved the fair and the food, the noise and the bustle. The only problem with Heir’s Day was that he was still a dwarfling, which meant he was quite little and had to stick very close to one of his adults at all times. His mother was always busy on Heir’s Day because she was helping Uncle Thorin smile and wave at people, so he usually spent Heir’s Day with his father. This year, however, Vali had injured his leg and was stuck at home, grumbling and complaining and making everyone promise to buy him his favorite sweets. Therefore, Fíli was walking through the noisy market, nibbling a roasted sausage on a stick, and holding on to his cousin Balin’s hand. Balin was not only their cousin, he also helped Uncle Thorin and was friends with their parents, _and_ helped Amad give Fíli his lessons. Fíli’s baby brother, Kíli, was on Balin’s shoulders, arms wrapped around Balin’s head and chattering away.

“Are you having fun, Fíli?” Balin asked, voice gentle and amused over the chatter. Everyone had learned that Kíli didn’t mind if you weren’t really paying attention to his talking most of the time. He just liked to practice.

“Yes!” Fíli said enthusiastically. “I want to buy Papa a present and eat funnel cake and watch one of the shows!”

Balin chuckled. “That’s a lot to do for three dwarves in one afternoon.”

“We can do it,” Fíli said, determined. “I’ll share my funnel cake with Kíli.”

“You’ll half it?”

“. . . Kíli’s too little for half. He’ll get sick.”

“Ah, I see.”

“So he can have this much.” Fíli held his hands a bit apart, for what might be a fourth of the cake. Balin leaned down and separated them a bit more. Fíli scowled at his hands a moment, but finally sighed. “Okay, that much.”

Balin smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. It’s important that a future king know how to share.”

Fíli did a bit of a skip, sharp eyes on the vendors so he could find his father’s gift. “Uncle Thorin knows how to share,” he said. “He makes things for us all the time and he shares his pies.” 

“Aye, he does. But one day, your Uncle Thorin will be king.” Balin paused a moment, his _should I say this_ pause, which always meant something very interesting if he followed through on it. “And then, Fíli, son of Dis, you will be prince. And Heir’s Day will be your day.”

Fíli stopped walking. His voice came out as an excited squeak when he said, “What?!”

Balin tugged him to move again as the crowd behind them grumbled. He led Fíli out of the line of dwarves and knelt in front of him, Kíli adjusting easily and grinning over Balin’s hair. “One day, you will be the Crown Prince,” Balin said, reaching out to gently adjust one of Fíli’s braids. “When that happens, Heir’s Day will be moved to your birthday, and King’s Day will be Thorin’s.”

Fíli’s mouth fell open in shock.

Kíli crowed, “Prince Fíli, Prince Fíli!” and Balin winced as the toddler whacked the side of the wise advisor’s head.

Balin watched him with obvious concern. He took Fíli’s hands in his and gave them a little squeeze. “Perhaps this wasn’t the best way to tell you,” he said. “It’s a lot to take in.”

This time, Fíli’s voice came out in an awed whisper. “Does that mean I get to _eat all the funnel cakes I want_?!”

Balin started, and then laughed, sweeping Fíli up into a warm and perfect hug.

\-----

The holiday was declared on the afternoon of Fíli’s 31st birthday.

This first Heir’s Day, finally moved from Thorin’s birthday to Fíli’s, was overwhelming in every way for the young dwarf. For years, though Fíli hadn’t known it when he was small, Thorin’s grave presence had cast a faint shadow over the celebrations, especially since the loss of their king and the years in which Thorin did not take the throne. This year, though, they had at last both a king and this: their bright, playful, well-loved heir. 

Everyone’s eyes were on Fíli, officially acknowledged for the first time as Heir Apparent at the afternoon’s ceremony. They assessed and weighed and discussed his prospects as if he wasn’t in the room, and he couldn’t decide which was worse: those who held him up as a promise of a homeland one day regained, or those who said he was too childish and too accustomed to life on the road to be of any use to a people in search of a home. 

_At least_ , he thought nervously, _I can’t disappoint the ones who think I’m no good._

“And why are you hiding out here, my golden flame of Durin?” came a low, teasing voice, and Fíli turned to smile sheepishly at his mother as she drew beside him. Dis was tall and proud in Durin blue, the dress a gift from their cousin Dain and much too fine to wear for anything but the most celebrated occasions. Fíli knew on some level that once she would have worn such finery daily; to him, born on the road, it was strange to see her outside of the simple linens and wools she wore in her day-to-day duties helping to open Thorin’s Halls. 

“Mostly because people are legitimately calling me that,” he answered with a wince. “Golden flame? Really? What does that make Kíli? The Hematite Anvil?”

Dis laughed, a low, pleased chuckle that managed to soothe a bit of the tension in his shoulders. “Your father thinks it’s hilarious. He’s going around calling himself the ‘golden forge’ and making everyone groan.” Dis ran a hand over Fíli’s hair, as much brown as gold but unusual all the same. It was a sign of affection she shared with her brother. “Gold represents home and hope for our people. There are worse things to be called.”

All the tension returned, tight across his shoulder blades and down his spine. “But I’m just one dwarf,” he said quietly, and though he was battle ready and at (to his frustration) his full height, he leaned a bit into his mother’s warmth. “Yesterday I was still half-hoping Uncle would change his mind and settle down with a female to have a child of his own.”

“Even if he did, my brave Fíli,” Dis said gently, “he could not disinherit you now. Nor would he wish to.”

Fíli bit his lip, an old habit he was trying to tame. “I’m not . . . I’m not sure I can be what they need,” he admitted, the words rough in his throat. He’d been swallowing them back for weeks, since the morning Thorin drew him from his lessons and sat him down and explained what was to come. He could barely remember the day he first learned he would be Thorin’s heir, and his only concern had been access to sweets; now he was older, and felt the enormity of such a responsibility on his slight shoulders. He’d wanted to flee in that moment, but he’d stayed still and listened, heart pounding while his face gave nothing away.

He couldn’t disappoint Thorin. 

Hands caught his shoulders and turned him, firm instead of soft, and when he met his mother’s eyes – blue like his – they were sharp and assessing. “You will be what you must be,” she said, and this was the voice of the princess of a wandering people, and not of his mother. “You will be loved and hated, revered and feared. Some days will be exhilarating, exciting, days you feel you’ve accomplished the impossible for the good of your people. Others will be exhausting,and painful, and you’ll lose sleep because you didn’t do enough, you _couldn’t_ do enough, nothing could be done.” Fíli’s eyes flinched away a moment but she grabbed his chin, pulled him back. “You are the golden flame of Durin, my strong, loving, mischievous son. Don’t be afraid of what you are destined to become.” 

Fíli didn’t know what the look on his face was – terror, he fancied – but Dis’s eyes softened, and she leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead in a gentle whisper of childhood. 

Below them, voices rose in laughter, a fiddle played, and the children of Durin danced to the tune of hope and joy.

\----

Fíli was away for his twenty-first Heir’s Day, his fifty-second birthday. Dwalin, Dis, and Thorin had declared him ready to take on his first job as guard of a merchant caravan, part of a team headed by Dwalin and including Dwalin and Fíli’s father in its number. His brother Kíli wasn’t yet considered ready, which Kíli was back home sulking about at length while Fíli crouched beside the cook fire with his father.

“Your uncle won’t be happy we’re late,” Vali commented, keeping a sharp eye on the two spits the dwarven party had suspended over the flames. It was a fine spring night, perfect weather for the celebration occurring two days’ ride away. He tossed his son a grin, the firelight catching matching veins of honey and bark in their hair. “Not that we were stopped by a swollen river on purpose, but that never stops Thorin’s moods.”

Fíli snorted and leaned back on his hands, loose and comfortable in the open air. The others were all tense away from the mountain, as proper dwarves should be; but Fíli, like the others of his generation, was not quite what their elders thought of as a proper dwarf. “I don’t mind,” he said. “Last time Uncle decided I should say yes to everyone who asked me to dance and I thought I’d be dead before the night was over.”

Vali laughed, dark eyes bright and head back a bit: Kíli’s laugh. “I finally sent your brother in to save you; told him to act the mistreated brat for not having any attention and make you dance with him for a while.”

Fíli shot his father a surprised look. “That was you?”

“And Kíli,” Vali’s smile softened. “He was the one who noticed you were a bit overwhelmed. He has more sense than most people give him credit for.” He elbowed his elder son softly. “At least where you’re concerned. All that babysitting finally paid off.”

Fíli laughed a little, tugging out his pipe and tapping some weed into it. The pipe was a gift from the brat in question, though Fíli supposed he should stop thinking of his brother that way now that they were older. Five years was a lot of time when they were in their twenties; it didn’t amount to much by now. 

_Not,_ Fíli thought, _that any self-respecting older brother would let Kíli forget he’s the little one, inches notwithstanding. Balin comes below Dwalin’s chin, but he doesn’t let it stop him._

“He won’t be thrilled, either,” Fíli said aloud. “I imagine Uncle has him playing my part at the feast.”

“Oh he’ll be fine. Kíli loves being the center of attention, more than you do at least.” But Vali sent him a considering look. Where Dis was strong and straight, her voice careful and her carriage clearly that of a princess, Vali was loose and relaxed, the son of a well-respected mine-owner of the Iron Hills. When Fíli wanted to know how to be a great prince, he went to this mother; when he wished to be a good dwarf, he leaned on his father. 

Vali shifted closer, one elbow around his bent knee, and studied his son with clear eyes. “Do you regret being away for Heir’s Day?”

Fíli took a slow drag, releasing the smoke on a sigh. “No,” he said, “and yes.” The stem tapped against his lip as he glanced surreptitiously around them. Seeing that Dwalin was well away (and therefore unable to report back to Thorin), he continued, “I’m almost used to it, now. You know the…” he waved his pipe, “the way people look at me. The way they talk to me. I’m completely used to it on normal days. But I’m _almost_ used to it even on Heir’s Day.” He frowned, staring into the fire until the afterimages danced atop the real flames, orange and pink. “That scares me a little.”

Vali made a soft, thoughtful noise and rotated the spits. “That you’re starting to think they’re right?” he asked.

Fíli shouldn’t have been surprised at the way his father cut to the heart of the matter. He should have ceased being surprised years ago. But with the likes of Thorin and Dis around him, Vali’s quiet good sense sometimes disappeared in the shadow of their determination. Slowly, the heir of Erebor nodded. “I’m afraid,” he said, and his voice was a whisper more of shame than of fear, “that I’ll believe I can lead them, but in the end it will be a disaster.” He shifted his gaze up into the night sky, a cacophony of stars he should have found cold and remote, should have wanted to hide from inside the safety and warmth of a mountain. 

He felt only a sort of peace that did not belong in the heart of Thorin’s heir.

“I’m not Uncle Thorin,” he finally said, wearily. 

“Good.”

Fíli looked up, surprised. “I thought you-”

Vali held a hand up, square and rough but clever; he was an archer, like his younger son. “I respect Thorin, Fíli. I love him. He is my wife’s brother, and my king, and he has placed my sons in places I would never have dreamed of as a child in the Iron Hills. But your uncle is not perfect, and it would be a mistake to let you think he is.” He tilted his head back as well, but he cringed subconsciously away from the great open sky, the scatterings of light, and looked again to solid earth. “Thorin loves his people, and he loves Erebor. But I can’t say which he loves more.”

Fíli scowled. “Of course he loves dwarves more than a mountain!” he argued, offended. 

“I hope so,” was the calm reply, not rising to an argument. “But you certainly will, and that’s what matters.” He reached across, laid his hand on Fíli’s a moment. The familiar warmth of his brace slid on Fíli’s bare wrist – his were soaked from the mess of a crossing they’d made just before dropping off their charges safely, and he’d laid them out carefully to dry near the fire. His father’s hand tightened for a breath, loosened and patted lightly. “Now then. What say I go and grab the ale I’ve been hiding from Dwalin and we’ll celebrate your birthday properly – no grand parties, no dwarves stomping your toes into submission, just ale and a few presents I’ve tucked away, just in case something like this happened?”

Fíli couldn’t hold back his grin.

\-----

The day Fíli turned sixty-nine, only one year from his full majority, there was a terrible storm. It was so powerful that it even dulled celebrations inside the mountain, the slashing winds and crashing thunder creating an eerie roar through the stone, and the damp seeming to seep through the usually warm and dry walls. There was still plenty of food, most of the market remained open, and music played, but it was a quiet and sedate holiday compared to most Heir’s Days. Fíli didn’t mind. He’d been working hard in the practice ring of late; blessed with being ambidextrous, he had started using twin swords several years earlier, and was now developing a technique to use both at once as efficiently as possible. He loved the challenge of it, but his shoulders and hips ached constantly, and he’d started going to bed rather early, much to his little brother’s amusement.

Speaking of whom . . .

“Here you are!” piped Kíli’s cheerful voice from behind him, accompanied by the scent of strong cider. “Hiding out for your own celebration. Tsk tsk.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Fíli responded dryly, and earned a thud of Kíli’s shoulder against his in response. 

“Don’t be a brat, brother,” Kíli responded comfortably as he handed Fíli a fragrant mug. “That’s no way for our future king to behave.”

Fíli winced a bit at that, hoping Kíli wouldn’t notice – but of course he did. Naturally, he also couldn’t just let it lie.

“What’s that about?” 

“Nothing.”

Kíli wasn’t buying Fíli’s weak attempt at nonchalance, and Fíli didn’t blame him. No one who wasn’t in a fairly deep sulk would sneak off to this particular corner of the mountain, which was especially damp and unfinished. “Fíli.” 

He didn’t have to say more than that. He never did.

Fíli sighed and sipped his cider, trying to find words for everything swirling around in his head. “It’s just . . .”

“Heir’s Day. You always get too introspective and broody around your birthday.” Kíli turned to rest his back against the wall, forcing Fíli to either look at him or turn away. “What I don’t understand is why. When Heir’s Day is _my_ birthday,” he grinned, “I’ll run around getting free samples of everything and charming everyone into a revolt to overthrow my stuffy older brother.” At Fíli’s rolling eyes, he added, “Luckily, there’ll be so much booze flowing that we’ll be too hungover to follow through on it, and you will rule another year in peace, prosperity, and broodiness.”

“Kind of you.”

“I’m a kind person.” One boot slid forward to tap against Fíli’s. “Why are we hiding in here when we could be dancing in the main hall?”

Fíli sighed, turned, and slid down the wall beside Kíli’s legs. His brother joined him with only a bit of grumbling about how much mold he’d end up with on his new coat and how Amad would kill them both; within seconds he was a warm, familiar presence along Fíli’s side. These moments were rare, but not so much as they once were: moments when Kíli’s frenetic energy calmed, and they could sit together, comfortable in the silence and in each other’s company.

Moments when Fíli would abruptly realize that Kíli was a long way from the gangly thirty-something he’d once been, and on his way to being a kind and giving adult.

“It is Heir’s Day,” Fíli finally confessed. “Sometimes, when people talk . . . I feel like this whole holiday-”

“Your birthday,” Kíli reminded him, but that really only made it all worse.

“My birthday,” on a sigh, “is just about . . . about waiting for Uncle Thorin to die.” He saw Kíli’s eyes widen from the corner of his vision. “Some kind of macabre funeral right for a king who’s still alive.”

“That doesn’t - that’s not what it’s about!”

“But it is! People go on and on about Heir’s Day being a day of hope! But Thorin is right there, constantly working, constantly exhausted, listening to is all, and I just-!”

Kili’s fingers touched his lips, warm from wrapping around the mug. “Oh, Fíli,” he said, but he was smiling, “you worry about the strangest things.” 

Fíli scowled. 

“This is a day of hope because it means if something did happen to Uncle Thorin – which we all hope it won’t – _you_ will be there to help us through it.”

“It’s not me, Kíli. It’s anyone. Anyone who was male and firstborn in the royal line.”

Now it was Kíli’s turn to frown, and it was a fierce thing to behold, dark brows and tight lips. “Don’t say that! It is about you, Fíli! Our people trust you, and they _should_ trust you. _I_ trust you, and I know what you look like after too much drink, running around naked in the snow.” The expression eased a bit as Fíli felt heat across his nose. That memory was supposed to be on the “do not discuss” list, and Kíli knew it. “It’s not about wanting to get rid of Thorin. It’s about knowing their children will serve a good and wise king one day.”

“Oh Kíli,” Fíli muttered, looking down. “I’m not wise. Not at all.”

A soft chuckle reached Fíli’s ears as Kíli wiggled an arm between Fíli’s back and the wall, snuggling up in that endearing way he had that he refused to outgrow. “That’s why you’ll have me by your side,” he said quietly, resting his temple against the side of Fíli’s head. “I’ll bring the wisdom, you can bring the goodness. Just like Thorin brings determination, but you bring heart.” 

Fíli stilled, feeling his brows draw together. “But Thorin-”

“I know you’re a little scared sometimes of being king, Fíli. I’d be terrified. I’m glad it’s you and not me.” He squeezed and Fíli muttered _yeah, thanks for that._ “But you’ll never be king alone. I’ll be with you every step of the way, reminding you what an uptight pain in the ass you are when you forget to be yourself and start trying to be Thorin.” 

Slowly, Fíli felt the tight muscles in his neck and shoulders relax, soaking up the endless furnace of heat that was Kíli’s body. “Like mother does for Thorin?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“Exactly,” Kíli agreed, “only I promise never to call you an emotionally constipated dwarfling in front of your advisor.”

Fíli laughed, low and comfortable in his chest. “She only did that once,” he said. 

He could hear the grin in his brother’s voice. “And Balin just nodded and said he agreed.”

“Thorin did have it coming.”

“He did.”

Fíli took a slow breath. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Any time,” Kíli said, and he meant it, Fíli knew he did. He knew Kíli like he knew himself, better, like breathing. “Though you know that moaning sound is our people weeping because I’m not out dancing.”

Fíli’s laugh was free this time, and he jumped lithely to his feet and pulled Kíli up as well. “Let’s go then. You need all the practice you can get before it’s your turn to host Heir’s Day and every eligible maiden in the dwarf kingdoms is vying for your hand!”

\-----

Fíli’s thirty-ninth Heir’s Day, the year he reached his majority, was the loudest celebration he had ever seen.

The weather was warm and comfortable and the Crown Prince was celebrating his Coming of Age. Fíli had never seen anything like it. Music, food, decorations, dancing, laughter, and free-flowing ale led to the biggest, noisiest, happiest party Thorin’s Halls had ever seen. 

The banquet was especially sumptuous, course after course of dwarven delicacies, some of them rare and ancient recipes, but each one more delicious than the last. Fíli sat at the head table to Thorin’s right, Kíli to _his_ right as his heir presumptive. On Thorin’s other side sat Dis and then their father, followed by Balin – everyone carefully seated according to rank, with Vali tucked in as a bonus for being the crown prince’s father. 

And on Fíli’s brow, heavy and solid, sat the crown Thorin had created for him, a gift for his coming of age.

He’d been nervous when Dis told him he would be properly crowned that day. He’d been afraid he’d throw up when the ceremony began and he saw the thing sitting there on its velvet pillow. But when he stepped forward, Kíli at his back, and met his Uncle’s eyes – when he saw his Uncle smile, just slightly – when he knelt and lowered his head-

It felt right.

A burst of song rose from one of the lower tables, a traditional favorite of Erebor, and by the second verse it was spreading from table to table like a fire of sound. Beside Fíli, Kíli laughed and clapped, joining in with gusto. As the fourth verse scattered down the head table, Thorin turned his head and tilted it down in something like a bow.

“Happy birthday,” he said softly, a smile in the corners of his mouth that tugged a shy, matching expression to Fíli’s lips.

“Thank you.”

Thorin leaned forward then, and Fíli felt his eyes widen as Thorin touched their foreheads – Thorin’s thick raven crown in silver and obsidian tapping lightly against the smaller, golden one he had forged for his heir. Thorin was Fíli’s uncle, and Fíli’s king, and Fíli loved and admired him – but in so many ways he had always been distant, always traveling, always working, always a bit at a loss with dwarflings and then a dedicated taskmaster as they grew older. Affection was granted through light praise hard-earned, a hand to the shoulder, a stroke of calloused fingers over hair. It had been years since Thorin had shown such open warmth in front of others. 

“Our people have fought long and hard for this peace,” he said quietly, “and Erebor still lies waiting to be reclaimed. But I am proud to have you at my side, and pleased to know that our people will one day rest in such capable hands.”

Fíli’s eyes burned hot, and he felt Kíli still beside him, watching. “Thank you,” he said again, and his voice was strong and firm, not a whisper. The crown sat steady on his brow. “I am honored to learn from you, my king,” and then, softer, “Uncle.”

Then came the rough fingers over his hair, a brief caress left over from his now officially-ended childhood, before Thorin straightened and thanked their servers for the next dish.

Kíli elbowed him with a grin. Dis leaned around his brother to incline her head with a regal smile. Vali flicked a thumb up in congratulations, and even Balin grinned, his warm eyes crinkling at the corners with pride. 

Fíli straightened his back and led the next song of celebration.

\-----

On Fíli’s eighty-second birthday, the fifty-first which was also an Heir’s Day, his uncle stood before their people in the pale light of dawn and promised them the impossible.

Thorin spoke of honor and of valor, of mountains wrongfully stolen and lives valiantly lost. He spoke of secret paths and dragons, and he spoke of crowns.

Fíli stood behind him, behind his uncle’s right shoulder. He wore a small circlet, forged from precious gold grabbed in the mad rush from their stolen homeland and half hidden in his hair. His heart hammered so loudly in his ears – _adventure, adventure, adventure_ – that he felt giddy with it.

A hand thudded against his left wrist. Fíli turned and smiled confidently up into his brother’s eyes as Kíli grinned broadly down at him. Excitement fairly crackled in the air between them.

“We’re going,” Kíli whispered, his voice trembling a bit as he bounced minutely on his toes. 

It had been a close call for Kíli. Vali had fought against his going with more vehemence than Fíli had ever seen in his calm father. Fíli was the heir, he said, the golden flame, his birthday stolen from him as the inaugural of this foolhardy quest, but Kíli was not. Fíli belonged to the people, but Kíli still belonged to them, to his mother and father, to this family.

Kíli had been livid. As Vali grew more cold and certain, Kíli grew more furious. Both usually so easygoing, so naturally kind, they snarled and barked at each other for weeks until Fíli stepped in, took his father’s hand and said, “Kíli can make his own decisions,” and his voice had not been that of a son, but that of a prince. 

Kíli immediately announced he would go.

Fíli had known he would. They were raised on tales of the mountain. Neither could stay behind. 

More than that, though, Kíli had made him a promise he would never break.

“We’ll have each other,” he told his father, returning the oath to his brother in kind, “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Besides,” Kíli had added, grinning once he knew he’d won, “we’re leaving on Fíli’s birthday!” He’d knocked his shoulder against Fíli’s, teasing. “Not quite as lucky as _my_ birthday, but as close as you can get without leaving in the middle of a snowstorm.”

Thorin’s deep voice echoed through the mountain as he reminded his people of the treasures of Erebor, of veins of gold, of the power and promise of the Arkenstone. At this last, the gathered audience cheered, shouted, laughed, and called out for their golden prince to retake the golden mountain.

Fíli lifted his chin, squared his shoulders. 

The people cried, “Erebor!”

The people roared, “King Thorin!”

The people sang, “Prince Fíli!”

Laughter and anticipation rose thick in the halls of their borrowed home. 

Balin, wise and kind Balin, stood just behind them with the rest of the Company their uncle had gathered. Their mother stood strong and proud at her brother’s side, Regent in his stead. Vali’s words echoed in Fíli’s memory, soft as he accepted Fíli’s ultimatum, Kíli’s choice: “Take the blessings of our people with you, on this day of hope,” though he had refused to attend the ceremony. And Kíli-

With a twist of his wrist, Fíli wrapped a hand around his brother’s bracer. Kíli grinned at him, wild anticipation in the sparkle of his eyes. 

It was Fíli’s eighty-second birthday. The birthday of the crown prince, the Heir’s Day.

A day of hope, a day of new beginnings, a day of possibilities.

“We’re going,” he agreed, matching that wide smile with his own, “to take back our people’s home.”


End file.
